


Magnificence

by togekissies



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, First Meetings, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togekissies/pseuds/togekissies
Summary: If she’s magnificent, then you’re superb, opulent, grandiose. You and your brother are natural beauties, all shining hair and glittering smiles and killer outfits. Taako is attracted to flamboyance to match his own. But you, you’re a little different from your twin—you find yourself drawn to more modest beings. You like people who keep things simple.





	Magnificence

**Author's Note:**

> you know those times when you wake up and the first thing you do in the morning is spend an hour and a half writing a fic, then you spend two weeks pretending you don't know exactly what you need to edit before posting it? you know, that totally relatable feel? and it's in second person, because _the homestuck was coming from inside the house all along!!_
> 
> thanks to my good good buddy luca for the feedback, and all the encouragement!
> 
> (BRI DON'T READ THIS UNTIL YOU LISTEN TO THE STOLEN CENTURY. I'M SERIOUS!!!!)

You’re at a party, you and Taako, because you gotta show off your fresh duds while scoring-slash-stealing free booze—booze that better be good because you fucking hate everyone here. Two-faced fakes, the lot of ‘em. They’re almost all new recruits for IPRE, jostling and schmoozing for a few choice spots in the ranks, even though they’re _obviously_ going to you and Taako.

You express as much to your brother, loudly, because you don’t care who hears, and he laughs. “I know, Lulu,” he says. “We’ll bounce soon, capiche? I’ve got my eye on a nice bottle of—”

He keeps talking about whatever wine he’s going to swipe next, but you’ve ceased hearing him because you’ve spotted someone across the room. You see a magnificent woman in the corner, with dark, youthful skin and kinky white hair pulled into a hasty bun. She’s hunched over a notebook, hand flying across the page. This intrigues you. What’s a beauty like her doing over there, acting like a fly on the wall?

Then Taako jostles you with his elbow. “Yo, Taako to Lup, do you hear me? You in or what?”

You love your brother. You really do. He’s the only person you’ve ever held in your heart, and you will never replace him. But sometimes—god, sometimes he’s _so_ dumb. You give him a flat look and jab your thumb over your shoulder, at the woman in the corner.

Taako lets out a low whistle and quirks a brow. “I see, I see. Well, don’t let me keep you from making a friend! If you know what I mean, eh?”

“Oh, Taako,” you sigh, but you’re smiling. “You remember what we agreed on, right? If I tell you to stay out of the apartment, you fucking stay out this time. Got it?”

“That was one time,” he protests. “But fine, I get it. You sure you wanna go over there, though? I’m pretty sure I spotted a vintage bottle of bourbon locked in the bartender’s cabinet. I gotta get my hands on that, even if it tastes like piss.”

“I have to try, Taako. I mean, look at her! She’s magnificent.”

Taako shrugs, attention already drifting back to the bartender. “Well, best of luck,” he says. He smiles at the bartender, causing him to pour vodka directly onto the bar.

If she’s magnificent, then you’re superb, opulent, grandiose. You and your brother are natural beauties, all shining hair and glittering smiles and _killer_ outfits. Taako is attracted to flamboyance to match his own. But you, you’re a little different from your twin—you find yourself drawn to more modest beings. You like people who keep things simple. You tell him it’s so they can let you shine, in comparison.

You thump your brother on the back, momentarily distracting him from making eyes at the bartender so he doesn’t notice Taako pilfering another bottle of wine. “Catch you later, bro,” you tell him.

You make your way through the crowd, to this woman they’re all fools for not noticing, purposefully knocking into people who deserve it. Like Greg Grimmaldis. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Grimmaldis,” you hiss as you walk past.

“I’ll give the money back to you next week,” he says, like he has been for months.

Boy, you wanna cast a fireball in his face.

The woman doesn’t look up when you approach her. You pull up a chair and say, “So what’re you in for?”

“Oh, you know,” she says without skipping a beat, “my job.”

You crack a smile. “What kind of cruddy job would send you to this shithole?”

“I’m a chronicler,” she says, which surprises you, for some reason. “I write down everything that happens around me.”

Indeed she is—she hasn’t stopped writing since you walked over. You try to take an unsubtle peek at the notebook, and she surprises you for a second time by tilting it in your direction for ease of reading. She’s still writing.

“So you record everything as it’s going on?” you ask, while she scribbles your words.

“Yes,” she answers, writing that down, too.

Oh, interesting. “Then let me take a peek at what you first said about me, hmm?” you ask cheekily, flipping a page back. “‘A pretty elf approaches this chronicler—’ Pretty? _Just_ pretty? I must say I’m a little offended.”

She looks up at you then. Studies your face. “Yes,” she decides, “I seem to have been mistaken.” She crosses out _pretty_ and writes _beautiful_ above it, along with _narcissistic_ and _distracting_.

You aren’t offended, it’s all true. You waggle your eyebrows at her. “Distracting, huh?”

She looks down at her notebook and says, “Well.” She doesn’t continue, nor does she go back to writing.

“But in all seriousness,” you say, curious, “why _are_ you writing down what happens in this party?”

“Because it’s history.”

“History? Here? With these chucklefucks?” You gesture out into the room. A few people nearby give you looks, but you don’t care. “Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere with _real_ history happening?”

“Oh, yes,” she says simply. “I plan to be.”

You decide you like this wallflower and her quiet confidence. “I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” You laugh. “I’m Lup. You may have heard of me and my brother, Taako. I’m afraid we have a bit of a reputation. But trust me, I’m the better twin. What’s your name?”

“Lucretia,” she answers. She shakes your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Lup-the-better-twin.”

Her hands have calluses where she holds her pen and you think her name is beautiful. You stand, pulling her up with you. “Well Lucretia, what do you say we ditch this popsicle stand and go somewhere and make better history?”

“I say,” she replies, her voice hitching a little. “I say that sounds great.”

You lead her through the crowd, still holding her hand. When you pass Taako he sneakily hands you an unopened bottle of wine behind his back, then gives you an incredibly obvious wink. You wink back.

The night air is cool but not uncomfortable. There’s a park nearby, with a fountain that’s still on this late, and cozy benches that make a good place to sit and chat and drink wine in the middle of the night with a beautiful woman. You plan on saying scathingly funny things, so she writes them all down, and reads them later to remember you and laugh.

-

It’s well past midnight—3am? 4am?—when you stumble into your room, a little drunk, with a slightly less drunk Lucretia kissing your neck. Boy, are you glad you walked up to her at that shitty party.

She still has her notebook with her, and you laugh about it, breathy and soft. “Are you going to write this all down, too?”

She removes her mouth from the groove between your neck and your collarbone to consider the question. “I probably could, if I tried,” she says mildly. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t find the idea very sexy. So I hope you forgive me if you wanted a record of tonight.”

You laugh louder, and it throws you off balance, just enough for her to tighten her grip on your waist to keep you steady. “Oh, no no no,” you tell her. “I think I’m going to remember tonight for a long, long time.”

Lucretia kisses you square on the mouth. You run your fingers through her tightly coiled hair, ruining her bun. You hear the distinct sound of a notebook being tossed carelessly onto your dresser, and you pull her down onto your bed.

-

In the morning, she’s still there. You realize this only when you feel her warmth move away. “Nooooo,” you complain, reaching for her with your eyes still closed.

“Good morning,” she says.

“The fuck it is,” you say upon realizing you’re hungover. “Damn. Taako gave us some strong stuff.” And you drank most of it, like a chump.

Lucretia chuckles softly. “I can make breakfast, if you want.”

This is what drives you to sit up and open your eyes. “No, nu-uh. No way. I’m the chef, I’ll make _you_ breakfast.”

“Oh, good. I can hardly make toast without setting the kitchen on fire.”

You jab a thumb at your chest. “I’m real fuckin’ good at setting shit on fire, too.”

Her smile only grows wider, then it fades. “Ah, Lup... I’m wondering, do you live with your brother?”

“Yup.” You run a hand through the mess that is your hair. “Don’t worry though, he’s not stupid. He probably found some guy’s house to spend the night at. And rob blind, you know.”

“Naturally,” Lucretia says, deadpan. She stands. “Well. I hope you don’t mind if I rob your closet. I’m not interested in making my walk of shame any more obvious than it needs to be.”

“Aww, Lucretia. Are you really ashamed of what we’ve done?”

“No,” she says softly. “Of course not.”

-

You have pride as a chef and refuse to let something like a hangover keep you from impressing your date with your culinary skills. She borrows your shower and you set out to make an incredible spread: eggs benedict, fluffy chocolate chip pancakes, multi colored potato hash, and the ever-popular toast with jam.

When she comes out into the kitchen, she’s wearing one of your shirts and a skirt you think belonged to Taako at one point, and she has her notebook with her. She watches you cook and writes. You hope she picks up some tips.

“So, Lucretia,” you say while flipping a pancake. “What sort of work does a chronicler do, really? Besides writing everything down. How does one move on up in that job?”

The sound of her pen scratching on paper stops. “I’m hoping to get the position on the Starblaster.” You freeze, and she doesn’t seem to notice. “If I’m being honest, I think I’m the most qualified out of all who applied. You weren’t wrong, last night. Most of the people at that party were bores.”

You casually load up a plate and serve it to her. “Coffee?” you ask. “Orange juice? Milk? What’s your poison of choice?”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.”

You get that for her too, then serve yourself, and sit across from her. You watch her take a bite. “What do you think?”

“This is the best fucking breakfast I’ve ever had,” she says with a blissful sigh.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say cheerfully. “Cause my brother and I are going to be the chefs on the Starblaster, so you’ll be eating my cooking a lot.”

Lucretia pauses and studies your face. “You deserve the position,” she says finally.

“I’m glad you agree!”

The two of you are quiet as you eat. She devours the pancake and the eggs benedict, and snorts at the toast before devouring that, too. She finishes her cup of coffee and gets up to serve herself another one. While pouring, she says, “I’m a professional. I won’t let this affect our working relationship.”

“Same here,” you reply. When she looks over at you, you give her a flirty grin. “And I wouldn’t be opposed to it happening again.”

She smiles into her coffee.

-

When Lucretia goes to leave, Taako opens the door before you can see her out. “Balls,” she says.

“Oh, whoops,” he says. “My bad!” He shimmies around her and gives you a thumbs up, mouthing, _Way to go!_

“Don’t worry, I’ll kill him later,” you promise her.

“Well. In that case. I’d hate to interrupt your sibling bonding time,” she says dryly.

You kiss her, and it causes something to stir in your heart. “I’ll be seeing you around, Lucretia.”

“See you,” she says back, smiling. Her eyes are as dark as her skin, and absolutely captivating.

-

The only person you’ve ever loved was Taako. He was the only person you had for almost your entire life, but you would have loved him anyway. He is your twin, your other half, and you can’t imagine a life without him or without your love for him.

In fact, for a long time you thought he was the only person you would ever love.

You were fine with it. He is the only one you’d ever need in your life. You didn’t feel like you were missing something—until you kissed Lucretia goodbye that morning.

You didn’t love her then, but you soon would. And through your love for her you would take others into your heart, after spending years terrified that loving anyone else would diminish your love for your brother. You learn that your love for Lucretia, and Barry, and Magnus and Merle and Davenport, does not make you love Taako any less. You learn your heart has room for many different people, and the magnificence of that love takes your breath away. It’s a lesson that’s one hundred years in the making.

The last thing you learn you love is humanity. That’s the reason you leave the note. _Back soon._


End file.
